


Emancipation

by Niobium



Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: Gen, Post Maleficent (2014)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:19:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1750931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niobium/pseuds/Niobium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Aurora's coronation, Maleficent has unfinished business with a certain raven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emancipation

**Author's Note:**

> I may have more than a few details about the film off, since I've only seen it once. I'm also playing a little fast and loose with how the fae are presented in the movie, mostly because I wanted a wider variety of them.
> 
> _Since writing this, it's come to my attention (via cast interviews and a copy of the script) that Diaval is intended to be a raven. So, I've edited those references in the story. Alas that I cannot refer to a murder of crows anymore! But that's how it goes._

Aurora’s ascension was a momentous occasion for the Moors, and its denizens paid no head to the turning of the heavens as they celebrated this first night of real peace. Fae came from the furthest corners of the land: long-eared elves from the deep border forests dressed in finely wrought leather; bog sprites born on dragonfly wings; the pixies who dwelled in the tall grass of the fens, their cricket-like legs ideal for jumping great distances; lake kelpies who shifted from rubbery-skinned waterhorses to lanky, gangling humanoid shapes at a whim. The festivities stretched long into the night, filling the countryside with music and song to a degree Maleficent had only heard of in tales.

As the night wore on she found herself sitting with Aurora, Philip, and a knot of older, less energetic fae, trading stories with them over mulled wine and spiced candies and hardy bread. Aurora and Philip were young and happy to dispel the silence with their voices any time the other fae became quiet, and so Maleficent left most of the speaking to them. She was tired with the joy of unexpected success, and it was soothing to listen to them.

“And so,” Philip was saying, “he takes the bucket and dumps it on _both_ of their heads!”

Aurora gasped. The fae made faces ranging from interest to disgust.

“ _Sour_ milk?” one of the lake kelpies asked, smacking their lips. “Sounds divine.”

A creek mermaid lounging half-in and half-out of the stream leaned over and whacked the kelpie on the back of the head. The kelpie’s ears splayed in irritation. “What?”

The mermaid sighed. “You daft lump. Sour milk’s bad for humans. It smells awful to them.”

“It smells awful to me as well,” a bog sprite grumbled, and sipped from her wine, maybe to clear her palette.

Aurora and Philip exchanged amused glances, barely holding in their giggling. Maleficent smiled, and her eyes scanned the milling fae. She was looking for a familiar shape in a simple, dark suit which should have stood out prominently, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“If you thought that was vile, you might not want to hear what comes next,” Philip warned. “It involves cleaning the beer vats.”

The bog sprite blanched. The kelpie’s eyes widened. 

“Oh! Oh! I love when those are left unattended. The plants that gather on the bottom—”

“Don’t!” the mermaid warned, and the kelpie stopped, ducking their head. “They’re not plants anyways,” she added. The kelpie took to nibbling at a patch of moss clinging to a rock.

“More for me,” they lamented. The mermaid grunted, and Aurora and Philip giggled, maybe more from the wine than the faes’ antics. 

Maleficent took the opportunity, and stood, saying, “If you’ll excuse me. I shall return shortly.”

They raised their glasses to her, though she caught Aurora giving her a curious look. She smiled in response and stepped out into the swarm of celebrants, taking wing once she’d reached a wide enough gap between them so no one would be struck with her wings. More than a few of them watched as she took to the sky, or paused to point and murmur, but she paid them no heed.

She had unfinished business to attend to.

***

He’d settled in the crook of a gnarled, old madrone on the other side of the stream with a book and a goblet of wine, close enough to see the goings on yet far enough away that no one was likely to interact with him except a-purpose. He glanced up as she lighted on the ground in front of him, placed his bookmark—a long, gangling, velvety brown coreopsis—and raised his goblet to her before having a drink.

“Tired of the conversation already?” he asked, eyes glinting. She shook her head.

“I’ll return to it after we’re done.”

Diaval tipped his head at her. “Done? Now that sounds ominous.” He took another drink, set the goblet aside, and hopped to his feet.

“Nothing ominous.” She hesitated, suddenly wanting to put it off as she had for days now, but this time she told herself she needed to get this over with. Raising her staff, she said, “Your freedom is long past due.” She gathered up the enchantments that had entangled him over the years, ready to sever them for good—

Diaval held up his hand and said, “Wait.” 

Maleficent let the magic slide through her fingers and lowered her staff. He said, “You mean to unbind me?”

“Yes.”

“Meaning I am released from your service forever more, to leave and go where I wish. Never to be a man or a dragon or,” he gestured absently, “whatever you might need.”

“Yes.” 

“And I’ll be—what, just a raven again?”

Maleficent had the distinct feeling he was trying to get at something in that raven-like way of his; worrying at the edges, nudging it about, pecking until the interior was revealed. “Of course,” she said, and he laughed, soft and quiet. She refused to let his response irritate her. “You find your impending freedom amusing?”

Diaval’s laughter faded, though he remained smiling as he shook his head and turned away from her. He moved to the edge of the stream and knelt down, running his hand over the top of the water. After a moment of chasing bright fish through the rocks with his fingers, he took up a small, smooth, black riverstone shot through with veins of milky opal. 

"I do not believe, mistress, that it will work, for I am no longer just a raven." He turned the stone over in his hand, letting the Moorlight catch on the opal so that it flared fiery green and blue against the glossy black. “Nor am I a man. I’m like this rock. Some of it is just obsidian, but some of it is this brighter stuff.” He paused to look up at her, and she nodded her understanding, at which he continued. “You know they’re not the same thing, that’s plain enough to see, but still they’re fused into one piece. To get them apart you’d have to smash the stone to bits.” He let it drop back into the water and stood. "I don't expect I'll find solace in either a flock or a town. The townspeople would think me a demon and the ravens would only be confused by my strangeness. The Moors are as close a home as I'll ever have—certainly, I'll not be considered strange or out of place here.” His eyes flitted to a trio of romping kelpies who’d taken their waterhorse shapes to chase one another in a pond. “What’s one more enchanted beast in the Moors."

Maleficent swallowed and toyed with one of her rings. "It was never my intention to..." How pathetic it sounded, to apologize now, all these years later. And yet she felt she had to at least offer, even though he might not accept it, maybe even scorn her for it. 

He raised his eyebrows at her, and she sighed. Her wings shifted, betraying her unease. "I am sorry, Diaval. I had not considered that after so long this way, going back might cease to be possible."

Of all the responses she’d accounted for, it wasn’t the one she received: he threw his head back and laughed. Cackled, really, and wiped at his eyes. Once he’d sobered, he said, "Ah, mistress. For one of the Fair Folk you are uncommon foolish about a great many things."

She would have been insulted if his amusement hadn't been a relief. Still, she asked, "How can you not be angry with me?"

"Oh, I was—say, ten or so years ago. No, maybe more like twelve. Not any time recently, or, not about _that_." He flashed his teeth at her, and walked out onto the small, stone path that crossed the stream. He crouched down and watched the tiny, gleaming fish as they darted away from his shadow. "Certainly it was hard at first. Sometimes I was my usual self, sometimes I was in this strange man's body, with its odd eating habits and weird bits and bizarre need for extraneous clothing.” He tugged at his suit and made a face. “But after a while, I got used to it. I helped you raise a child in the woods. I spied on humans with all their useless scheming and fae with all their frivolous nonsense. I lent you my wings, since yours were gone from you. All this, and I'm sure I've lived longer than I ever would have as a raven."

Maleficent huffed a breath and looked away. "Such sound reasons to forgive me."

"You would dismiss my acceptance of my situation and the joy I took in the experiences it afforded me, just so you can wallow in self-pity over an action you’ve come to regret?" He sounded truly offended, and when she turned she saw that he’d stood and was now on the other side of the stream and frowning at her. 

She shook her head. "No. But neither would I have you tolerate mistreatment at anyone's hands—especially my own."

He waved a hand and stalked along the bank towards a stand of cobra lilies. "Mistreatment," he said, almost spitting the word. "You never once raised a hand against me, nor asked me to do something I felt a need to refuse.”

“Did you think you could refuse?”

“I don’t know. It never came up.” He stopped among the tall, scroll-headed plants and raised his chin at her. “You _did_ save my life. I owed you at least a _little_ help for that."

"Perhaps. But not your self."

An edge crept into his tone. "I'll be the one deciding to whom I owe my self, thank you very much."

Maleficent grumbled. He was impossible. "I take it all this bickering with me means you do not wish to be released?"

He looked at her down his sharp nose, eyes bright and hard. "Do you truly believe it will grant you some measure of peace?"

She took in a deep breath and let it out very slowly, letting the sweet, heavy, summer air fill her. "Yes, I do."

She knew he didn’t agree with her; she could see it in his eyes. But he said, "Fine then." He clasped his hands behind his back. "On two conditions." She tilted her head at him. "That I may remain here in the Moors, or at least be allowed to come and go as I please, and, that you find a way to enable me to still," he waved down at himself, "turn into this."

Maleficent fingered her staff. The former part of his request was not a problem; Aurora would have been heartbroken to see him go. The later, however, would require some work.

"I doubt I will be able to teach it to you,” she said. “As bound with magic as you’ve been, glamours are not in your nature. But perhaps there is a talisman I could create." She thought of the stone he’d been playing with. She was sure she could convince a mermaid to find it for her. "Yes, I think we could manage something. It would be an object you would carry with you, or an article of clothing you would wear."

He waved a hand dismissively. "Whatever it is would be of little concern to me." 

Maleficent raised her eyebrows and smiled, and he seemed to hesitate. 

"Within reason, of course," he added.

"Of course," she said, the soul of indulgence. He pursed his lips.

"I won't wear some flea-bitten coat of cat hair, if that's what you're thinking."

She made her way towards the small footbridge which would take her back to Aurora and Philip’s little gathering, which had begun some sort of juggling contest from the looks of things. "How could you accuse me of such a thing, really."

He walked swiftly along the bank so he could meet her on the other side. "And no belts of dog fur. Or shoes made from horse hooves. Nothing ridiculous."

"Already regretting that your terms were not strict enough?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "You _are_ fae after all.” He offered her his arm, which she took. “I don't know that I could ever be specific enough to completely ensure my safety in a contract with you." 

Her bright laugh preceded them back to the party.


End file.
